Eleanor and Park cannot stand each other when they first
meet. The lack of an immediate "spark" is what immediately set
this book apart from others in its genre. It is highly uncommon to come across a book in the "teen fiction" or "romance" sections where the characters take longer than a few
chapters to fall completely and totally in love. With Eleanor and Park, author
Rainbow Rowell forces readers to deal with a real love story – one that doesn’t
start right away.
Another interesting element about this book is its
characters. Neither of them, in all honesty, are likeable at first. Rowell
makes sure to give readers constant reminders of Eleanor’s unruly, red hair and
her weight (which, apparently, is above average and, therefore, makes her
unattractive). She “never looked nice” (Rowell, 165). She was an easy target
for bullies. And Park? He was one of the (very) few Asian students in his
school. He liked to wear eyeliner sometimes. He didn’t have many friends. So,
it’s hard to picture these two together, given how different they appear at
first – and it’s even more difficult to imagine them falling in love. At first,
it’s hard to like the images that come to mind. Most readers want to picture two
aesthetically pleasing and socially acceptable people to fall in love so they
can get the best possible picture in their heads. Eleanor and Park are not
poster teens for a quirky romance. Yet, somehow, they pull of one of the
greatest love stories of its time. Or, rather, Rowell does. Her voice as an
author could be, at times, compared to that of widely popular author John
Green:
“I just can’t believe that life would give us to each
other,’ he said, ‘and then take it back.’
‘I can,’ she said. ‘Life’s a bastard”(Rowell).
Perhaps it is the witty back-and-forth banter that makes the
story so enticing. Or maybe it’s the way readers learn to love a more realistic
love story with each turn of a page. The bottom line is that there is simply
something about this book that is highly unconventional in the most wonderful
way possible.
Min and Ed are opposites, like Park and Eleanor. But Ed is
your typical attractive jock, and Min is your typical average-looking, quirky,
borderline outcast. They fit more of the “typical” character prototypes for
chick-lit books. What makes Why We Broke
Up so different from other novels of its kind, however, also becomes
apparent right at the beginning.
Min and Ed have broken up before the book even starts (hence
the title). The entire book is a series of pictures of items that Min is
returning to Ed in a box, each with a story (be it one page or fifteen)
explaining why it contributed to the eventual downfall of the relationship.
Never does one see a love that has already met its demise. Sometimes novels
backtrack through the relationship, but never has it already ended by the first
page.
But why would I want
to read about their “love story” if it is so obviously going to end?
The answer lies in the way the story is written. Handler
(who, by the way, wrote the Series of
Unfortunate Events…who knew?!) took a stylistic approach seen only in a few
novels; one of these is Extremely Loud
and Incredibly Close, in which some chapters Safran Foer chooses to write
in run-on sentences, so as to show Oskar’s grandfather’s racing mind. For those
who haven’t read sentences with multiple purposeful comma splices, the
experience can be a little strange at first. But it quickly becomes somewhat
poetic:
“You flew your way through all those stone silent statues,
and if I could I'd thunk them all at your goddamn doorstep, as noisy as you
were quiet, as furious as we were giggly, as cold and scornful as I was
breathless and hot watching you cat burglar for evidence and come back
shrugging and empty-handed so we still didn't know, we still couldn't be sure,
not until everything was developed...But we never developed them”(Handler).
That’s what makes this book stand out. It forces readers to
enter Min’s frantic, post-heartbreak mind. And as messy as it is, it is somehow
beautiful. And, most importantly, it’s real. Many romantic/chick-lit novels
have the happy ending we hate to love – but this one doesn’t. Because the end
had already happened.
Rowell and Handler have taken major steps in transforming
the highly popular –and also highly criticized – chick-lit culture. Perhaps the
most important one, though, is the one that is shared between them: showcasing
reality. Reminding love-struck teenage girls (and the occasional boy) that love
does not always last, that not every story can have a happy ending, and that
people who don’t meet society’s skin-tight standards can indeed fall in love.
Yes, this is the most important thing: the reminder that we are human.
I really like this observation: "With Eleanor and Park, author Rainbow Rowell forces readers to deal with a real love story – one that doesn’t start right away." Perfect point about love stories. I also like the sample of Chandler's language that you included. Sounds like a fun read.
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